


Dinner Date

by PrincessGarbage



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, One-Shot, POV Switches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessGarbage/pseuds/PrincessGarbage
Summary: You have a deadline, an URGENT deadline, and who decides to crash into your window but the Merc with a Mouth.





	1. Breaking and Entering

“I think this is the place!” Deadpool reached in his belt pocket to pull out a crumpled, slightly damp coloring page with an address on it.

“Let’s see… yep! The address matches. What were the instructions again?..” He mused, standing in a shadow near the building, “Break in and scare, like a robbery. Take laptop.” He scratched his head, “Normally it’s ‘stab to death’, but sure! Money’s money, baby.” Deadpool promptly ate the note, or tried to, before ripping it into shreds.

In that moment, a nearby porch light of an apartment building came on and the door creaked open slightly. Oh come on, this was making it too easy! The merc spit out any remaining bits of the paper and pulled his mask back down.

As he looked closer at the apartment, he noted the details of the porch. Overgrown potted plants were scattered about in a wide variety of pots that some may call tacky, he certainly agreed with the word. 

There were a few windchimes that tinkled every so often with the slight breeze and behind those were a wooden easel, empty. Peering into the screen doors, he could see the corner of a countertop, maybe belonging to a kitchen? He would have to get closer to know for sure, the apartment was on the third floor after all.

So, channeling his best spider-man impression, he scaled the building and landed on the balcony.

He noted a laptop on the counter, cool, this would be his break in target. 

He walked up to the door, picking up one of the potted plants and chucked it through the door. No need to be quiet if he was supposed to scare whoever was inside. 

He stepped through the glass, “Honey, I’m home!” He called out looking around.  
Immediately, he noticed the girl who was sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, staring at him, with a startled expression. 

 

After a long pause, she spoke before he could. 

“Welcome home, darling. Dinner is still out on the table, please help yourself.” She said this with an effortless air as if she was welcoming a friend into her home or like a waitstaff offering a plate to a client. As soon as she was finished, she turned back to her laptop and began vigorously typing. Her startled expression disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

He blinked in surprise, opening his mouth to respond, but then closing it out of sheer confusion, which was a rare occasion. He most certainly was not an old friend, as he had never met this woman before, nor was he welcomed into her home at all. In fact, it should be quite the opposite! He was very obviously trying to rob her. He felt she should have the common sense to recognize that. Did she not recognize him either? He had been on the news pretty recently, but maybe that was in another timeline.. He shook his head, grounding himself. 

He raised a finger, as if to scold her and insist upon what her reaction should be, but instead he was once again distracted by the absurdity of her response. Then the entrancing smell of her cooking reached his nose and he turned to the nearby kitchen to sneak a peek. 

He marveled at the dinner spread, as the dishes before him looked plain, but smelled absolutely mouth-watering. He turned to her, ready to set the record straight, but she was seriously engrossed in whatever it was she was working on, like he had not just broken into her home. As he tried to decide what to do, he was once more led to the food by a new wave of aroma. 

His instructions hadn’t said anything about dinner, so it was probably fine. “If you insist!~” He answered, to no response from the girl.

Defeated, he fixed a bowl of the warm curry, pouring it delicately on top of a perfect mound of rice.  
His mouth watered just looking at the food, despite how plain it was. He was about to take a bite when a voice disrupted him.

“Mind the heat, it is rather hot still.” 

He turned to look, and sure enough the woman was still focusing on her papers in front of her, and if he hadn’t heard her seconds ago he would’ve thought she hadn’t spoke at all. 

Again, he was met with a feeling of immediate annoyance followed by confusement. He even opened his mouth to spout off a snarky comment, but then realized how absurd the whole situation was and instead opted to start eating. 

 

They sat in silence as he finished his meal. He continuously watched her, as she kept working on something like her life depended on it. Scattered around her were a collection of opened books and loose papers, as well as some brushes, pens, and ink. Every so often she would glance at the clock or adjust her glasses, but aside from that she completely ignored everything around her, including her ‘guest’. 

Honestly, he was a bit annoyed for some reason. This was not how he had expected this endeavor to go, and now he felt a bit awkward about it. Should he just go? Would she call the cops eventually? Those questions rattled in his mind, but what he really wanted to know was what she was working on that was so important. 

“C’mon.. C’mon, c’mon..” she muttered under her breath, her pace picking up as she glanced to the clock one last time and sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. 

Suddenly, the girl began to carefully pack up her papers, binding them neatly into an envelope. There was a knock at the door and Deadpool jumped, had she somehow called the coppers? Instead, there was an errand person there ready to take her envelope. She thanked them and shut the door.

 

“Deadline, huh?”

“Manga is brutal.” Was her only response, but she sat back down, this time on the couch instead of the floor and turned to face him.

“So, did you want something?” She asked, finally acknowledging him and the situation. 

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, which quickly turned into a fit of laughter. 

Now it was her turn to look at him in confusion. After a minute or so, he composed himself enough to respond. “Well, yeah actually. I need your laptop.”

“Hmm..” She pondered, looking up and scratching her chin. After a few moments she turned back to him, “How about the TV instead?”

“Uh, this isn’t ‘Let’s Make a Deal’, so no. It’s gotta be the laptop, sorry sweetcheeks.” Remembering what he was here to do, he puffed out a bit in an attempt to look intimidating.

“Hmm…” She pondered again, then she took a deep breath and shook her head apologetically, “Sorry, I can’t let you have that.”

He frowned, “Look, baby, I don’t wanna hurt you okay? Especially after such a delicious meal- can I scoop that recipe? But really, I need the laptop.”

She smiled slightly, “Thank you, of course you can have the recipe, and I would be more than happy to pack you up some leftovers too. However, I really can’t give you my laptop, it has too much of my work on it to lose. I’m sorry.” 

He bristled a bit, was he going soft or something? His reputation failing? He was about to retort back and draw a weapon for extra weight on his threats, but instead he found himself blinking in surprise as the girl approached him. She sighed, then right as she was in his face, crouched a bit in order to grab him around the waist. 

 

“What th--”

“You heal, right?” She asked, lifting him over her head effortlessly while walking to the broken porch door.

“I.. What? What’re you doing? Couldn’t resist a copping a little feel?” He said, joking but completely shocked.

“Sorry about this. Please don’t try to come in again.” She asked as she began to move through the former glass door. 

“Wait!!!” Deadpool yelled, grabbing the hinges of the door to stop her.

She huffed, “Yes?”

“I’ll just take the leftovers and the recipe after all! Pretty please?”

“If I put you down, I feel like you may grab my laptop and run, so I’m sorry but no.” She said, moving through the door again.

“But- but..” He whined, trying to think of something else. 

“No buts. Oh, actually, who’s the ass that hired you? I have a feeling..” She asked, hoisting him in a way that he felt meant he was about to be tossed over the balcony. 

“Um.. Normally it’s confidential, but.. It was a guy, about your age, I think his name was like… Ryan? Something like that.” He answered, hoping that it would call for good tidings and a reward of some leftovers.

She gritted her teeth and shook his head, “That asshole… He just can’t let it go. Thank you, Mr. Deadpool.” 

He snorts at that, and is answering as she tosses him lightly across the road, “Just Deadpool’s fiiiii------uuuucccckkk!!!!!” 

 

She turned away and went into her apartment before he hit the ground, not wanting to see the likely violent sight. In a moment, the balcony was sealed off by a heavy dresser and she continued her evening like nothing happened, except for jotting down a ‘call landlord’ note in her planner for tomorrow.


	2. Leftovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Merc returns for a second "date"!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for commenting and giving kudos! Ask and you shall (finally) receive! I have planned this out to be a 5 part mini-fic. I know the POV shifts to first person, and I'm still deciding if I should change the first chapter or not (I probably will). 
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/princessgarbage
> 
> No pressure~

After a good night’s sleep, which you hadn’t had except for a few winks here and there for the majority of the week, the previous night’s events finally were processed. 

“Deadpool. In my house. Hired by my ex-boyfriend?!” You were trying to stay calm, but you were soo pissed you couldn’t stand it. You had already blocked your ex on all social media after a particularly nasty break-up in which he tried to convince you to abandon your ‘silly manga career’, which was just starting to take off, because it took up too much of your time. Instead he had wanted you to work for him as a secretary. 

To add insult to injury, now it seemed that he had hired some muscle to try and sabotage your career and get you to come crying back to him out of fear. 

As if.

He should have known that your powers wouldn’t make you the damsel in distress so easily. 

Speaking of, you went to move the dresser back to where it belonged. When your fingers touched the wood, you activated your powers and caused the object’s makeup to shift, turning it extremely light in an instant. The moment that you no longer touched it, it shifted back to its original makeup and was back where it belonged.

You chewed a nail anxiously, what would you do about your ex? You didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize your budding career, but not knowing if he would leave you alone would seriously stress you out. 

Your other worry was Deadpool. Had your ex somehow known about.. Your little pseudo-crush?

You thought back to a news report one day when the two of you were still together. Your ex had called you out of a drawing trance to look at the TV. 

“Hey, it’s that freakshow again. No offense, babe.” He had motioned to Deadpool, a rising topic of the news. He was being shown in a still from a crime scene, his mask half-way drawn up his face revealing a big grin with yellowed teeth and skin abrasions unlike anything you had seen before. He was missing an arm, but was actually holding the limb, which was shooting the bird, in his left hand.

Your cheeks tinged pink while your mind buzzed with a myriad of thoughts: interesting, comic inspiration?, obscene, funny, powered, cute, gross.

Wait-

Cute?

You had blinked a few times and shook the feeling away, in the present you had a similar reaction.

“That was a fluke, and there’s no way that Ryan noticed it. He’s too daft. I’m sure he just picked Deadpool because of his healing factor and because he’s cheap.” After thinking for another moment, you sighed, “Probably just because he was cheap.”

To ignore your worries, you delved into your routine. 

As per your bad habit, you ignored your leftovers and opted to make an entirely new meal, losing yourself in the structure of cooking.

Soon, you were met with far too much food for one person, but you were satisfied. You ate a healthy portion of your continental breakfast, then left the rest to be dealt with later. Next would be working on melding your ideas into a feasible chapter for this week’s release. 

You lost time as you worked, per usual, and were startled when you noticed a loud knocking on your front door. 

Groggily, you get up to open the door to find none other than Deadpool once again. 

“I’m here for dinner, what’s cookin’ good lookin’?” He says and you think he’s smiling under his mask.

“Dinner? I just had…” You turned to look at the window and noticed the sun was setting. “Breakfast..” 

“That is a bad habit, tsk tsk.” Deadpool chides you, and you turn to stare at him again.

Forcing yourself through the initial shock, you ask “Are you still here for the laptop?” as you put one hand to your temple, sighing.

“Nah, that guy paid up front and when I told him I didn’t get the laptop, he gave up.” Deadpool shrugged. 

“He.. gave up?” You asked quirking a brow, that didn’t sound like your ex.

“Weeeeell, when I threatened him for leaving out such crucial information such as, ya know, you having super-strength and all, he decided to call it quits. That and I got bored.” Again, deadpool shrugged, “So, dinner?”

“Uh…” You fumbled, trying to get your brain to work, “I.. I didn’t make dinner today. I still have leftovers from yesterday though.” You didn’t bother to correct him on your powers, it was better for people to think you had super-strength anyways since your real power could be exploited.

“Sounds delicious!” Deadpool clapped his hands together like a schoolgirl, “I still want that recipe, I think I earned it.”

With that you chuckled and opened the door, letting him pass, “Sure, let me get it for you.”

It was certainly surreal, but less than twenty-four hours after he broke into your house, you were eating dinner with Deadpool. Again.

It was actually on his mind too, especially when he stared at your busted window. “I, uh, I can pay to have that fixed. Sorry ‘bout that.” He said through a mouth full of food. 

You had been so engrossed in your own food, and still a little bit in work mode mentally, that you had hardly looked at him since you handed him his plate. 

You turned to respond, but paused when you saw how his mask was half-pulled up over his nose, mouth obviously exposed so he could eat. Obviously. He was messy, he had food on the sides of his mouth, and he would not stop talking despite his loud-mouth being full of food. 

It was super gross, but that thought came back: cute.

Immediately your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed, you turned away trying to remember what he had said and also questioning if something was wrong with you. “Uh, uh. Don’t worry about it. My landlord can.. Fix it. I can, yeah.” 

“Um, okay.” He said quirking a brow, then realizing that he had probably disgusted you with his freaky zombie skin. He frowned a bit, not that you saw, and sighed, “At least let me do something, I feel bad about it.”

“Uh.. You can.. Take home leftovers? I’ll never be able to eat them all. Bad habit of mine is I cook like I’m feeding a family of four, but it’s just me.” You chuckle a bit, keeping your eyes focused on your food.

“Heh.” He grinned and chuckled a bit, “Well, that doesn’t really feel like a help, but I won’t say no! I may be stupid, but I’m no idiot.” 

He earned a giggle from you at that, which made his heart flutter a bit. Hey, can you blame him? Deadpool can’t just run into a cute girl with super powers who is a bangin’ cook and ignore it! 

Well, he could try to ignore it. He knew he would just get shot down like always, “So, what’s the big idea with the laptop anyway?” He gestures to your laptop with his fork.

“Ah, it’s basically my child. Of course it’s backed up, but we have history you know. It wouldn’t be the same if I lost it, all my files, my ideas, my thumbs.” You explain.

“Thumbs?” He asks, confused. 

“No, no. Like art thumbnails. Like drawings and sketches and stuff.” You correct him.

“Art..” He takes a moment to look around at the scattered papers on the nearby coffee table and recognizes a cover, “Holy shitballs, you’re the author of this?” He goes to grab the piece, but holds back because he doesn’t want to get it dirty.

“Y-You know it?” You flush, trying not to smile. “It’s kinda new.. And.. macabre… and… not very mainstream at all.” 

“Mainstream, lamestream. This rocks! I love it. The main character is a mega hottie badass, he’s like me, if I was a werewolf, duh.” Deadpool brags, doing a dramatic hero pose. “It’s got the good stuff, blood, guts, monsters. How could anyone not like it?”

You hadn’t really met a fan face-to-face before and it was taking a lot out of you, that and Deadpool’s pose made his muscles flex and he was soo close to you. The urge to touch his bicep was alarming. “A-Aw. W-well, I just, thanks, yeah. I’m glad you like it…” You scratched your neck and turned back to your food, red-faced. 

Trying to save yourself, you got back on track. “Almost a decade of work is on that laptop and it’s just now starting to pay off, so I can’t slip up at all or it’s all over.”

“Whatcha mean?” He asked, spraying you with bits of food. 

Ignoring that, you continued, “I recently got a publisher interested in my ideas. Just a little magazine, nothing major, but I’m putting out my own work finally instead of just doing inking or backgrounds for other comics. The only thing is it’s weekly and I can’t afford to hire any help, so I gotta do everything on my own. It takes up all of my time.”

“Ahh, I see, that’s why mr. what’s his nuts wanted to trash the laptop and scare ya. Poor guy missed you.” Deadpool teases with a shit eating grin. 

You turn, brows furrowed to tell him to screw off, but the sight makes your stomach flip. Before you can say anything he adds, “That was a joke. He’s obviously a manipulative douche. I’m a feminist, c’mon!” 

Again, you can’t help but chortle. “Okay, okay. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” 

‘This time?’ He thought with a hint of excitement, wondering if there would be a next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think! What do you want to happen next? Who else loves this big goof as much as I do (and who plans to see the PG-13 Deadpool 2?)
> 
> Thanks for supporting me! Here is my ko-fi link if anyone feels so obliged (no pressure, but I am a grad student soo i'm hoping tips=more/faster updates!~) 
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/princessgarbage

**Author's Note:**

> This could be a one-shot, or I could expand it.... what do y'all think? Thanks for all the comments/kudos/subscribes <3  
> EDIT: Due to requests, I will be expanding this into a short fic! Your comments, feedback, and kudos keep me going, thank you!


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